


Deliver Us

by Lenny9987



Series: Living It Up at Lallybroch AU Series [1]
Category: Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Fanfic for the Holidays, Other, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-14 23:46:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5763559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lenny9987/pseuds/Lenny9987
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The events surrounding Brianna's birth in my Living It Up at Lallybroch canon divergent AU series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deliver Us

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to Tumblr and inspired by a prompt from my Fanfic for the Holidays tag.
> 
> "Anonymous said: Hi I adore your writing and the ficlets are a joy to have. Can you a write a version of Wait and Pray for Briana birth from Murtagh POV?"
> 
>  
> 
> Contains a scene with mild violence.

The first pains started just after Jamie left for the fields to supervise the last of the harvest. Jenny sent Fergus to fetch the midwife but insisted to Claire that it was useless to send for Jamie so early.

“It’ll be hours yet ‘fore there’s much to be done and there’s naught he can do even then,” Jenny assured Claire as she stood with one hand gripping the high back of a chair and the other clutched to her belly as the pain rippled through her lower back and abdomen. “They have to get a fair bit closer together. Walk about  for now - it’ll help move things along.”

Still, news of the midwife’s arrival made it to the field shortly after midday and Jamie stormed into the house demanding an explanation for why he’d not been summoned sooner. Mrs. Crook was watching Maggie and Kitty in the kitchen, cowering under the Laird’s fearful gaze and giving a nod to the ceiling - they’d moved Claire upstairs. Murtagh was close behind Jamie.

“Leave it to the women, lad,” he suggested but refrained from attempting to hold Jamie back as he moved towards the stairs.

He burst through the door of the chamber where the midwife was preparing while Jenny helped Claire shed everything but her shift. Claire winced and took firm hold of Jenny’s hand as another contraction struck. Jenny rubbed Claire’s back as she bent under the strain.

All the blood left Jamie’s head, the redness of his fury draining to a terrified pallor. He rushed forward looking to take Claire in his arms but the rigid tension in her body as she braced herself made him pause. She let out a gasp and breathed deeply as the pain eased for the moment. 

“What d’ye think ye’re doin’ in here?” Jenny turned on Jamie.

Jamie did his best to glare at Jenny but he was too concerned for Claire. She straightened up a bit, rubbing the soreness of her back and belly before throwing him a forced smile. “You should be taking care of the harvest,” she scolded. “When you’re through in the fields, there’ll still be a bit of waiting to do here. Someone’s taking their time about-”

“I’m staying here with ye through it all,” Jamie told her, finally mustering the courage to reach out and touch her arm, sliding his hand down to where her hand rested on her protruding belly. “I’ll no leave yer side.”

Claire sighed while Jenny scoffed - the midwife tutted quietly in the corner choosing to let the women of the house handle the worried father-to-be as best they could before she stepped in with the final say. 

“That’s… sweet, Jamie but it isn’t necessary. I’ll be fine.” She reached up to put a hand to his cheek but she could see he was digging in his heels. She didn’t have the energy to argue.

“There’s nothing sweet about it, Sassenach. It’s where I belong - where I should ha been last time.”

There was more than just determination in his face - guilt and fear in his eyes betrayed the firm line of his clenched jaw and wrenched Claire’s heart. 

“Jamie… This isn’t going to be like last time.”

“Yer right - cause I’m goin’ to do whatever-”

Her hand slipped from his cheek and clenched the thick muscle of his upper arm, her fingers digging into the flesh. He took firm hold of her as well, fearing she would fall over or faint if he didn’t hold her up. “Claire!” he cried while she gripped her belly.

Jenny drifted back to dig the heels of her palms into Claire’s lower back as she implored her, “Breathe, Claire, breathe. Dinna be afraid to scream if ye must but watch yer tongue - dinna want the girls downstairs picking up any of yer…  _English_  phrases.” 

Claire did cry out but fought to keep her volume down, settling on a protracted whimper while the contraction lasted. As it faded, she breathed deeply again and her grip on Jamie loosened. She started to apologize for holding onto him so tightly but was startled to find that she wasn’t the one whose grip was causing her to tremble - it was his. 

“Jamie…” she said quietly, gathering her strength. “Please… I think you should wait downstairs.”

“No, Sassenach. I’m no leaving ye.” The determination was still there but backed by a painful desperation.

A glance from Claire sent Jenny back to the midwife’s side. 

“Jamie.” There was more force in her voice this time. “Do you remember when you said you couldn’t bear my pain?”

“I wish I could take it from ye now,” he whispered. “I’d-”

“You can’t and I wouldn’t ask you to. But it’s the same for me.” She had to reach up and tilt his chin so he would look at her. “I can do this,” she assured him. “I can stand it. What I can’t stand is watching you cringe every time I cry out or flinch when I bend over. That hurts more than the labor.”

“I’ll no leave ye! I came too close to losing ye last time - I wouldna have… I wouldna have had a chance… If there’s a chance that something might…” He couldn’t find the words to say what he meant, afraid that speaking it aloud might bring his worst fears to life.

“I’m not going to die,” Claire said with a building frustration. “I didn’t die in France and I won’t die today.”

“Ye canna promise that, Sassenach.”

“I just did,” she told him stubbornly though she knew he was right.

“If ye do, I want to be with ye,” he insisted. “I’ll no lose ye without…” he hesitated, choking on the thought, “without saying goodbye.”

“Then I’ll be sure someone fetches you if things go south,” Claire said sardonically. She was through being gentle with him. “For now…” Another contraction was starting and she turned away from him to grip the mantle over the fireplace. “Get. Out.”

Jenny was there trying to guide her brother to the door. “Ye heard the woman, Jamie. We’ll send for ye if there’s need. Now the midwife will be needin’ to check Claire’s progress and ye’ll certainly no be welcome for that.”

“I’m not leaving!” he insisted, trying to throw Jenny off without hurting her.

There was a commotion at the door as Murtagh came into the room with one or two other men who had come up from the fields with Ian. Claire was doing her best to stifle her cries as they only made Jamie more agitated. With a nod from Murtagh the field hands seized Jamie and forcibly dragged him from the room. Murtagh’s face reddened at the sight of Claire in nothing but her sweat soaked shift, clinging to the taught curves of her pregnant belly and swollen breasts. 

“I’ll see he keeps out o’ yer hair,” he promised before closing the door on the women’s business. He shuffled hastily for the stairs where Jamie was fighting every step that brought him further from Claire. 

They didn’t release Jamie until he was outside in the chilly November air. The sun was beginning to set though the hour wasn’t all that late. Still, everything was beginning to cool and Jamie’s breath formed a faint cloud. 

The cold did nothing to ease his fury - on the contrary, it brought out the need to fight. The moment his left arm was released, he took a swing at the man who still held his right. Jamie caught him square in the face, breaking the man’s nose with a crunch and a gush of blood. The man who’d been holding Jamie’s left arm leapt at him in an attempt to undo what he’d unleashed but Jamie caught him with an elbow to the jaw. 

“Jamie!” Murtagh hollered, storming out the door and into the fray. “Lad, tha’s enough!”

Jamie rounded on his godfather and took a swing at him too but Murtagh was ready and ducked beneath Jamie’s arm, catching him in turn with a solid punch to the gut. Jamie doubled over, winded more than wounded, but it was long enough for Murtagh to pull his dirk and let the blade shine in the light of the setting sun. 

“I said, that’s enough,” Murtagh repeated. “If ye need to rant and rage fine, but ye’ll no be taking yer frustration out on yer tenants’ heids. Ye’re making more healing work for Claire te do - and don for a second think that she willna be calling these lads in tomorrow while she’s still abed to see they’ve been tended to properly.”

Jamie’s mouth twitched - it was precisely something Claire would do - but he couldn’t quite smile because there was a chance that those men and other tenants would file through the house to see Claire laid out, paying their respects and offering their condolences instead of seeking her for healing. 

He turned to the man with the broken nose and apologized, offering to help him inside and get him a dram of whisky - the other man too. Ian was standing at the door waiting to lead them through to the kitchen where Mrs. Crook would do her best to stanch the bleeding and fix them up right. 

Jamie and Murtagh broke off for Jamie’s study and the whisky he kept there. Murtagh blocked the door when Jamie moved to bring the bottle to the kitchen himself. Instead, Rabbie was summoned for the task and Murtagh pulled out a second bottle and a glass, placing both before Jamie who didn’t need to be told to drink. He had drained three glasses by the time Ian knocked on the door and came in.

“They’re verra understanding,” Ian informed Jamie. “Said Murtagh warned them ye might do something of the sort and gave compliments on yer ability to catch them unawares.”

“I dinna ken what to do,” Jamie lamented, his hand resting on the whisky bottle, his eyes focused on the empty glass in front of him as though he was fuzzy on how to get the liquid from the bottle into the glass.

“Claire’s in fine hands,” Murtagh assured Jamie, perching on the edge of the desk rather than plant himself in a chair. “ _And_ she asked ye te leave herself. Usually ye’d listen te her if no one else so what’s got inte ye? It’s no just what happened in France.”

“That room,” Jamie murmured. “Seeing her… in there…” Whatever he saw in his mind’s eye, he remembered how to pour the whisky again, a fourth glass quickly swallowed. 

Murtagh reached across the desk and pulled the bottle out of Jamie’s reach. “Pace yerself lad. Ye’ll be needin’ more afore long unless ye plan to drink yerself into a stupor.”

“Ye should let him, Murtagh,” Ian chimed in. “If he canna contain himself, at least he’ll no be causin’ more trouble about the house.”

“My mother died in that room,” Jamie explained, glaring at Ian who had the courtesy to look bashful and wipe a hand down his tired face by way of apology. Jamie turned to Murtagh. “I heard her screaming but there was nothing I could do to help her - nothing my  _father_  could do to ease her pain and then… she was just gone, my wee brother too. I just…” He turned the empty glass in his hand, looking to the dregs pooling in the bottom. “What if Claire… All along it’s been difficult for her - carrying this child. If anything  _is_  to happen… I dinna want her to be alone.”

“She isna alone in there,” Murtagh reminded Jamie gently. “Neither was yer mam for that matter.”

“That’s no what I meant and ye ken it well,” Jamie quietly accused.

Murtagh sighed, glanced to Ian who shrugged, equally at a loss for what to do. 

Finally Murtagh straightened up. “Come, lad. Ian, ye’ll need te stay behind. I need a lantern,” Murtagh began muttering as he came around the desk urging Jamie up from the chair and towards the door. 

 

* * *

 

“Where are ye leading me?” Jamie called as he stumbled up the gentle slope behind Murtagh. He was too distracted with thoughts of Claire and what was happening in that room to pay attention to where on the property they were, only that they were headed up - the whisky wasn’t helping though he was at least able to keep his feet. 

The lantern flickered ahead of him as Murtagh turned to be sure Jamie was still following. “If ye’ve not guessed yet, ye’ll ken soon enough.”

Jamie stopped suddenly as light struck the stones by the gate. Murtagh continued on into the family burial plot - Jamie knew the rest of the way. 

It took a minute for Jamie to make his feet move forward. Part of him flushed with shame at the thought of his parents seeing him in such a state - clothes mussed and flecked with blood from the fight, reeking of whisky and sweat. He tidied himself as best he could before meandering over to where Murtagh had placed the lantern between their stones - Brian’s on the left, Ellen and Robert’s on the right. 

“Yer mind is flying between them and Claire and it’s unsettling ye,” Murtagh said quietly. “Maybe talkin’ wi’ them can settle it agin.” He put a hand on Jamie’s shoulder and squeezed before walking back towards the entrance to wait.

Jamie paused before getting to his knees before the stones, crossing himself, and whispering his way through several habitual prayers. Somewhere during his sixth time through the  _Our Father_ , he lost his place and trailed off into silence. 

He reached out and ran his fingers over the letters of his parents’ names before shifting from his kneeling posture onto his arse. The ground was cold beneath him but it bit rather than numbed him - he wished he could feel numb instead of the helpless, terrified roiling mess that was twisting his guts. 

“I’m scairt,” he finally admitted aloud. “Claire’s… and there’s nothing I can do to help her or ease her or… nothing. I… I canna lose her - no like this. Not her and the bairn, no after Faith. I failed her once before and… I didna even  _see_  Faith. I ken Claire says she’s forgiven me… but I havena forgiven myself - I canna forgive myself until I ken  _Faith_  has forgiven me.”

He’d never quite admitted it to himself before - the fact that beyond feeling as though he’d failed Claire that day in France, he’d failed his daughter more. He reached up to wipe the tears from his eyes before they could fall but found he was too late. He cleared his throat before speaking again, his voice low and rough. 

“I dinna ken  _how_  to be a father… and I’m… I’ve already mucked it up once. If I dinna get a second chance…” The breath left his body in a sudden, painful rush, leaving behind an eerie calm. “I can live wi’ that… But I canna live wi’out Claire. Please… please watch over her now - her and the bairn. Lord,” he whispered, drawing his knees up to his chest and resting his arms on them, his forehead on his arms, “please dinna take them from me.”

 

* * *

 

Jamie lost track of the time as he sat at his parents’ graves that night. Murtagh came to check on him, gently resting a hand on Jamie’s shoulder. His head jerked up, his face inquisitive. 

“We should turn back or they’ll worry.” Murtagh helped pull Jamie to his feet. His limbs were stiff from the cold and he was vaguely aware that the darkness was thinning around him though there were still a few stars visible in the lightening sky. He nodded and they headed back for the house.

There was a glow visible from several of the windows when Lallybroch came into view, though whether that was a good or bad sign remained to be seen. Jamie paused and took a few deep breaths to brace himself. 

“I can go aheid of ye if ye wish,” Murtagh offered.

“No. I dinna think I can wait that long,” Jamie responded, taking another step forward.

It was quiet in the house when they slipped through the door - surely if Claire were still in labor he’d be able to hear her cries in that level of quiet. His heart began to pound - there was no sound of a babe crying either, only silence. 

As he headed for the stairs a figure moved to his left. Ian rose from his chair, a tired smile on his face. 

“I promised Jenny I’d wait up for ye to return so I could set yer mind at ease before ye woke the house demanding te see Claire again.” Ian nodded to Murtagh as he closed in on a trembling Jamie.

“Claire’s alive?”

“Aye and ye’ve a daughter I’m te congratulate ye on as well. Likely they’ll both be resting if ye go in te see them so tread soft.”

Murtagh gave Jamie a clap on the back and a slight shove toward the stairs before turning to hear more from Ian. Jamie didn’t hear a word in his haste. 

He paused at the door to listen before easing it open and slipping inside. The midwife was asleep in a chair in the corner, tasked with keeping an eye on mother and child in case anything transpired in those quietly dangerous hours after birth - not that there was much that could be done if anything should happen. 

Claire was asleep too, propped up on pillows down the middle of the bed and she had a carefully wrapped bundle clutched to her chest. 

He moved as quietly and gently as he could so as not to wake her. There wasn’t much room on the bed as he eased himself down next to them. 

Claire stirred but didn’t wake, shifting a little so that her body was angled more towards him. 

He smiled and turned his face so her curls tickled his nose. The salty scent of her sweat mingled with the concoction of herbs that perpetually hung about her. He felt calm and could have fallen asleep right there after the hours of torturous uncertainty he’d endured.

The bundle on Claire’s chest emitted a little grunt and stretched, disturbing her blanket wrapping and rousing Claire before she settled down once more. Jamie reached out a tentative hand and rested it on the baby’s back, rubbing light circles and murmuring quietly in Gáidhlig. 

“I know you were hoping your first-born son would be named for your father,” Claire whispered, her voice hoarse, “but I went ahead and used it for our daughter instead. Didn’t see the sense in waiting till next time when every muscle in my body was screaming that under no circumstances was I going to let there  _be_ a next time.”

“Ye’ve named our daughter Brian?” Jamie asked with a low chuckle - he was too tired and relieved for the detail to catch him the way it normally would.

“I might have been in a little pain after thirteen hours of labor,” Claire told him, “but I wasn’t delirious enough to name our  _daughter_  Brian. Her name is Brianna. Brianna Ellen.”

“Why no just Ellen?”

“Because they belong together,” Claire said simply. 

Jamie remained silent, unable to deny the logic of the statement. Claire seemed to take his lack of acknowledgment as a polite form of protest. 

“I don’t know, maybe it’s because most of the time when I hear them talked of it’s with their names together like that - Brian and Ellen… Brian  _and_ Ellen. If you say it fast enough it almost sounds like Brian _na_  Ellen Fraser.” She shrugged and the infant on her chest rose and fell with the movement.

Jamie chuckled again, turning and planting a kiss to Claire’s temple.

“I do love ye, Sassenach.” He paused, resting his head against hers and taking comfort in the solidness and warmth of her body next to his. “I tried to think of what life would be without ye, tonight… and I canna do it. I’m glad I don have to try.”

“I did promise you we’d be fine, didn’t I?” She turned and pressed a kiss to his jaw; it was rough because he hadn’t shaved since the morning before.

“Aye, ye did,” he admitted. “Though if ye’ll refrain from frightening me like that again-”

“So you’re on board with the no next time thing too,” Claire teased. “Good. I was thinking you’d argue with me on that one.”

“Perhaps we’d best revisit it after we’ve both had a bit of time to forget what this last part was like,” Jamie remarked, smoothing Brianna’s wrapping down a bit to expose her tiny clenched fist.

“I think I know the best way to forget that part,” Claire admitted. “Or at least, something that will make it not so bad in hind sight.”

Jamie ran his finger over Brianna’s delicate fingers and knuckles, slipping the tip of his finger under just enough to raise tiny the fist. Brianna’s hand opened reflexively and clamped down again on Jamie’s finger, clutching it tightly. 

“And what’s that, Sassenach?”

“This part,” she said with a nod to Brianna holding his finger before sliding down a bit against the pillows and resting her head on Jamie’s shoulder.

 


End file.
